Tyranny of Dragons: A Night in Phlan
by Archerlord
Summary: Every good adventurer needs a break from their quests. With Phlan under the control of the tyrannical Black Fist, five adventurers keep their head down. While some are content with having fun on their night off, others are more concerned with where their adventurer will take them next. A one-shot centered around the characters first featured in Defiance in Phlan.


"Final time playin', lad," a gruff man announced. "Deal the cards."

"Afraid I'm going to rob you just like I did your pals?" Nalos smirked, leaning forward on the wooden table.

"I just want to cash out with the coin I have," the man told him.

Nalos nodded while a third man shuffled a deck of Talis cards at his table. The gambling house that the triton found himself at was shoddy at best. The wooden chairs creaked, the floor was stained, and the various tables were rugged. To avoid the Black Fist's tyranny, the games were held in the basement of a single house where, as long as they were quiet, could go undiscovered from the guards. It was a no name establishment: the owner already figured that the low life who played were mostly criminals, and wanted nothing to do with whatever business they hasd. He just offered them a place to play for them to stay out of trouble with the Black Fist.

It was odd that Nalos had more in common with the wretches here than the other commonfolk. It was no secret that he bragged about being an ex-pirate. Sure, he was shanghaied by a captain and made a swabby, but he was still a former pirate. The other ruffians had a certain character to them as well. Not all of them were bad people. Like the triton, some had their role forced on them. Others had no choice under the tyranny of the Black Fist. What they all had in common was that one night a week, they agreed to set aside personal grievances and weapons for a night of gambling and fun.

"Startin' bet is ten gold," the dealer announced. "Once we get the coin on the table, we can start. Now is your last chance to cash out."

The man threw ten gold up onto the table, where the dealer shoved it towards the center. Likewise, Nalos reached into his pockets to pull the required coin and gave it to the dealer. He was no stranger when it came to gambling. Back during his time as a pirate, the first mate of his ship taught him how to play different card variations. His win loss ratio was about equal given that the pirates did not tell him all of their secrets. Still, the triton knew just enough to get by and earn more coins from these poor saps.

They were playing with a Talis deck. Normally used for a complex card game or fortune telling, they were used to give gambling a touch of color. The dealer dealt out two cards to the remaining players, a crowd gathering around them. Nalos took a quick glance at his assigned cards. The first was a white Winds card of a young elven lad playing his flute in the rain. The other was an orange Flames card of a dwarven smith cooling a smelted blade in a tub of water. Overall, not too bad of a hand. The elven lad and dwarven smith were both both artisans, meaning that he already had a pair. Not a bad way to start but he could do better.

The dealer dealt the next three cards, leaving them face up on the center of the table. The first card was a blue Waves card of a sailor sailing beneath a rainbow. A card Nalos could connect to but did not help him at all. The next card was another Waves card of a young lad fishing out in a stream. Finally, there was a Flames card of a dwarf trying to put out a fire. All of the cards were low in value but at least he still had a pair of artisans. Better than nothing.

"I'll raise," Nalos tossed in five coins in the center.

"Match," the gruff man followed suit.

The dealer collected the coins before dealing out the next card. It was the first Leaves card of the game: a halfling maid traveling throughout a desert. Why a desert was a Leaves card was beyond Nalos. The card did not help him much and a pair of artisans was not too valuable. Still, if he could outbluff the man, his opponent could fold and lose. It was a risky gamble that would cost him some coin only if the other gambler matched him.

"Raising to twenty five gold," Nalos slid the coins across the table. "Are you going to match?"

"You know I am," the man grinned, sliding his coins forward. "I'm a man of chance. What can I say?"

The dealer divied up the coin and paused for a moment of dramatic tension. Finally, he flipped the card over. Another Leaves card depicting a halfling child whittling a wooden statue by a pond. Nalos could not help himself when he grinned, realizing that it was another artisan card. Three of a kind was much better than two of a kind. The man sighed out and slammed his cards down on the table. Nalos flipped his two cards over while the dealer pushed the coins over to him.

"You should have cashed out sooner," Nalos told his opponent.

"If only that final card was a mage or dragon," the gruffed man sighed, taking what coin he had. "I'll be on my way."

"With forty gold to my pocket, I might be interested in gambling some more," Nalos turned to the dealer. "Any other tables I can join?"

"You could always join the high stakes table," the dealer motioned to the back of the room.

The high stakes table was over at the center of the room, allowing for everyone to watch the gambling going on about. There were hundreds of coins at stake for each game. Only the professionals could hope to compete against the players at that table. Nalos was good but not that good. He would rather hold onto the coin he had instead of lose it all trying to go against the experts. That, and he was confident that he lacked the coin to make the initial entry into the game.

By far, the high stakes had the most diverse cast, and this was coming from a triton of all people. Sitting at the center table, asides from the dealer, were four men. A half-orc, a high elf, a tiefling, and a half-elf. The first three seemed to be coordinating as a team, intent on defeating the half-elf. The half-elf stroke the patch of hair on his chin and took a sip from a horn. Nalos was surprised to see that he willingly played the game drunk. The druid had a little sip every now and then but thought that having too much would hinder his gameplay. Instead, the drunk grinned confidently, taking another glance at his cards.

The dealer revealed the final card and Nalos wished he could see or hear what they were saying. The elf and tiefling threw down their cards in anger and stood up from their seats. The half-orc revealed his cards with a grin and reached a beefy hand towards the gathered coins. However, the half-elf raised a single finger to stop him, and showed his cards. The dealer pushed the coins towards the true winner while the unnamed half-orc ran off to the bar, wanting to drink away his defeat.

"Did that drunk just win at the high stakes table?" Nalos asked.

"That's Pallas for you," the dealer shrugged. "Thinks that playing the game while drunk makes it hard for others to judge his reaction. Usually, it works, and he cleans house once a week."

"That's pretty amazing," Nalos nodded.

"Looks like he has an open spot," the dealer motioned.

"I don't think I'm good enough just yet," Nalos put his gathered coins into a sack. "Another time. Tonight, I'll cash out."

* * *

Arannis let out a terrible groan of pain, his vision dark. His head throbbed with an intensified ache and he could feel that his two of his ribs were cracked. The injuries he sustained from the goblin's lair was starting to flare up once more. The dark elf could only thought how ironic it was, that the pain he sustained from the blows was the only thing keeping him going. Tidbits of the fight slowly started to come back into his memory, the warrior knowing full well that he was outclassed. Yet, he would be damned if he gave up simply because he was in pain. Let his body break before he loses this battle.

Slowly, Arannis' vision started to adjust. He could only see out of his left eye, his right eye was swollen shut with a black eye. That was but one of many bruises he had sustained. His vision adjusted to the dark cave that he found himself in, surrounded by crowds of humans and other spectators. Torches lit up the chamber they found themselves in, allowing for everyone to watch the fight. There were a few cheers within the crowd when they saw he was awake, but there were more boos. It looks like he was not the crowd favorite, or at least, no one betted on his win.

"Can you still fight?" One man knelt by him, serving as the official of the fight.

"Of course," Arannis groaned. "Give me some space."

Outside of Phlan's walls was a cave that once a week, housed an underground fight club. With all of the mercenary work taken up by adventurers for the time, Arannis needed a way to earn more coin. He found his way to the arena, and much to his surprise, discovered it had little to do with skills with weapon. Rather, it was hand to hand combat.

It was through years of combat that Arannis was able to hone his body. He was swift enough to get through someone's defenses and strong enough to cut one of his blades completely through an opponent, which was no small feat. However, when it came to martial arts, he was unskilled. All the dark elf could do was bash his fists and feet against his foe, a muscular human much more experienced than he. Both were shirtless, revealing their sustained bruises from the battle. The warrior took a look at the man, seeing that he was still standing, but in a lot of pain.

One more punch would take either fighter down.

Arannis slowly pushed himself onto his hands and knees, spitting a mixture of blood and saliva on the ground. The judge stood between him and his foe, enforcing the rules. Another second passed, and once more, the dark elf was on his feet, raising a fist up in the air. There was a short round of applause from the crowd. Even those who betted against him would recognize that staying up after such a beating was impressive on its own. The warrior never cared what they thought of him: only that he won the battle.

"Fight!" The judge declared, quickly stepping to the side.

Immediately, Arannis and the experienced pit fighter charged at each other, throwing their respective punches. The dark elf led with a right hook aimed for the left side of his face, the most battered. At the same time, the pit fighter charged with an uppercut right at his chin. Both fighters forgoed their defenses, going straight for the knockout to put an end to the fight. One of them would walk away while the other was dragged away.

Their fists collided at the same time, sending both men collapsing onto the ground. Arannis fell down with a painful thud and groan, knowing the cave floor all too well at this time. Yet, he was conscious. The dark elf got up on one knee, trying to push himself up to the ground slowly. The pit fighter remained unmoving on the ground in front of him. The judge stepped forward, checking to see if the warrior's opponent was down for the count. The official shook his head, walked up to the other fighter, and grabbed his wrist to help him up onto his feet.

"Winner!" the judge announced, holding his wrist and fist up. "That's the final fight of the night, folks! Be sure to come by next week!"

There were many groans amongst the crowd as the majority started to hand over their earned coins to those who supported Arannis as part of their wagers. The crowd started to disperse with two men starting to drag the unconscious pit fighter away. The dark elf wiped his hand across his cheek, smirking. There was no feeling that could match the pride of a victory in a fight well fought from both sides.

Arannis walked over his corner of the makeshift arena that was formerly made by the gathered crowds. Waiting for him was his shirt, backpack, sheathed swords, and hat. The dark elf put his shirt on, followed by his backpack and swords. Within his hat were donations from his fans and supporters. Several cold coins shined brightly in the dark cave. Not a lot, seeing as how he was nearly knocked out twice during the fight, but still something he could send back home. Pocketing the coin and holding his hat to his side, the warrior made his way out of the cave and into the night day.

* * *

"-and that's why dragons are the puppets of kobolds," an elderly man, the self-proclaimed dragon guru, finished his explanation.

"Uh huh," Hana muttered, trying her best to ignore the man and read the tome on the table.

"Those kobolds are quite the crafty foes," the dragon guru explained. "They pass themselves as the minions when it's the dragon that's the minion."

"Sure," Hana rolled her eyes.

"And don't get me started on the lizardfolk," the dragon guru huffed. "You know why we never see the Masked Lords of Waterdeep? Because they ARE the Masked Lords."

"I'm just going to leave," Hana sighed, closing the tome "This was only about kobolds, you know. Next time, please don't waste anyone's time."

"But wait, I haven't even started on Tiamat!" the guru pleaded while she left. "Don't you want to know how each of her heads are controlled by minor kobold avatars who ascended to-"

It was easy to deem this visit one of Phlan's many libraries as a bust. When she heard that they had an expert of dragons on staff. Instead, the expert on dragons was a lunatic who came up with various crazy conspiracies on dragons. Even what little she knew of the dragons was much better than what that man had to offer. And the books the library did not hold her interest. They only contained small facts about anatomy, but nothing about the lore.

Hana's encounter with the blue dragon tooth left her curious to learn more about dragons. She desired to learn more but Phlan's many libraries held little information on what she sought. The sorceress stepped out of the library, the night sky dark high above her. Walking down to her right was a dwarf. One with a grim look on his face, as if he had been on many adventures. He carried a satchel underneath one arm with a backpack slung over the other. His eyes briefly glanced towards the door of the library.

"Excuse me, lass," the dwarf asked.

"Sorry," Hana stepped aside. "Try to avoid eye contact with the "dragon expert" inside. You'll lose the rest of your night."

"Good thin' I'm just here te drop off some books," the dwarf patted the satchel he held. "Just doin' me obligatory duty te Kelemvor."

"Don't you look a little old to be a delivery boy?" Hana asked with a smirk.

"We all have te pitch in te help th' church," the dwarf laughed. "So, ye wish te learn more about dragons?"

"Their lore, to be exact," Hana answered bluntly. "Everything else doesn't interest me."

"I might just be able te help ye," the dwarf told her, reaching into his backpack. "Normally, I just don't give out books te strangers, but from how thin's may be, well, I'll trust ye just this once."

"You research dragons?" Hana continued her questioning.

"Nay, but recently, I've been interested in 'em," the dwarf shrugged, pulling out a black tome from his book. "Ye ever heard o' dracoliches?"

"Dracoliches?" Hana raised an eyebrow.

"Undead dragons," the dwarf held the book out to her. "This is more facts than lore, but seein' as how ye never heard o' 'em before, ye should still read."

"Thank you, sir," Hana took the book.

"Please, call me Nordak," the dwarf insisted and held one hand out to her.

"Hana," she took the dwarf's hand for a firm handshake.

"Don't ye go doin' anything crazy with this, lass," Nordak advised. "I just want ye te be prepared. An' before ye ask, I have no clue what's comin'. Something is."

Hana recognized the truth in Nordak's words. While the dwarf walked inside, the woman was left out with her thoughts. There was no doubt about it: dragons would be the talk of the town for many weeks and months to come. Her journey away from home took her here for a reason. There was no further questioning it. She had to stay and see this through until the end. Only then could the sorceress learn more regarding the history of dragons.

Without any reason to stay, Hana walked away from the library, intending to find somewhere to rest for the night. Until something draconic in nature came up, she needed to find something to occupy her time. Thankfully, Phlan was home to lot of trouble that needed to be dealt with. Ranging from the Welcomers, Phlan's guild of thieves, to the tyranny of the Black Fist, there would be enough to keep her occupied while waiting. The sorceress was unsure what the future held for her or the town, but whatever was coming could not be good news for the people.

* * *

 **A/N: As promised, a brief one-shot regarding the five hero's in between their adventures. It was nice, finally being able to start connecting the group together. And starting with May, I will write about their next journey. Stay caught up to see what our gang gets themselves into this time.**

 **Until next time.**


End file.
